Dream of Fire
by itrustyoutokillme
Summary: Michael and Sara meet before they meet. Michael's mind likes to imagine how she would be


Michael paced his apartment over and over, his clean polished shoes squeaking with each turn on his parquet flooring. He thumped a clenched fist to his forehead three times, whispering incoherent mumble to himself. His eyes were squeezed shut and his brow furrowed. A knock at his door echoed through the almost empty apartment. He raised his head, dropped his arms to his side and angrily made his way to the distraction.

He reached for the round, chrome handle and turned it. In shock he blinked, gave a halfhearted smile and relaxed under her gaze. Her head was lowered slightly, he chin resting near her chest and she smiled back a smile so serene in Michael's eyes.

"Ah, it's you" Reaching up onto the frame Michael lent into it, his rolled up blue sleeves revealing his perfect, untouched arms. "You're not the pizza guy" he smirked.

Playfully she bit her lip and shuffled forward into his apartment. He made no protest to stop her. She was dressed in an incredibly low cut black dress that zipped down and up the front, connecting the tiny scrap of material just below her navel. Michael could clearly make out a black lace bra and underwear set as she brushed by him, her heels clicking across the floor.

Michael closed the door behind her as she entered and turned to watch her move. She moved like heaven, flowing across his apartment towards the wall opposite the door. The apartment was dingy, the only light coming from a single desk lamp aimed towards blueprints on the wall. Michael pushed himself from the door and stalked towards her as she reached her destination.

"I haven't mastered it yet" he confessed as she ran her nimble fingers across square sticky notes covering the wall, lifting one every now and again. She lifted one and found the Infirmary beneath. Turning to glance his way she gave him a seductive smile, her hair falling in loose curls over her bare shoulders.

"I could show you the way" she teased, taking his hand in hers and dragging it down the soft skin beneath her breasts. Michael gulped. She was like fire, hot and mesmerising, and Michael had touched the flames. Nervously he pulled his hand from hers and placed both of them into his pant pockets, balling his fists. She pouted and turned back to the board.

"You're not supposed to be here" he told her with distain. The last thing Michael wanted was to jeopardise the plan, but sometimes the best and worst things are the same. The best and worst thing stood before him now.

She turned to face him and he melted beneath her fiery gaze. Her eyes were half open, half closed with premature passion and she glided towards him. Resting a delicate hand upon his chest Michael could feel the warmth burning his skin beneath his shirt. She tiptoed towards his ear. "So throw me out" she breathed hotly into his ear.

Michael's hands clenched tighter and his jaw twitched with tension. He briefly closed his eyes but she was still there, imprinted on his eyelids. His groin tingled, his breathing all but stilled and he went rigid with anticipation. "I didn't think so" she smiled, dragging her hand lazily from his chest as she left his gaze.

Michael exhaled hard. She turned him on in ways he could not explain. They way she moved, the way she smelt, the way she touched him. Everything set him on fire, set him ablaze with passion and desire. A desire so strong that at moment in time he would risk everything he has planned thus far to be with her. To have her. To take her.

He spun on his heels, his expression riddled with want and need and he was disappointed to find her gone. Michael looked around his apartment puzzled and cursed the blood coursing through his veins as he ran a slightly shaky hand over his shaven scalp.

"She touched you this time" Michael moved his head in an instant, his steely eyes locating a familiar orange jumpsuit in the darkness. He squinted slightly at the figure.

"Lincoln?" he asked the figure as it dissolved into smoke, the rattling of cuffs and chains lingering in the apartment.

"Lincoln?" Michael awoke with a start. He had only meant to close his eyes for a few seconds. He searched his watch for the time and rubbed his eyes sleepily when he realised he had been out for fifteen minutes. He swivelled in his chair to face the blueprints behind him. Blue square sticky notes littered the floor like confetti and Michael sighed, a beaten feeling creeping into his mind.

A knock at the door echoed through the apartment once more and Michael's heart skipped a beat when he heard it. He searched his collage until he found her, her perfect image pinned delicately to his wall where he could watch her always. A second knock prompted his attention and he bolted for the door.

A slightly clammy hand clasped the chrome door handle and it turned, clicking open to reveal a pizza, it's delivery person standing an arms length behind it. As she read off the price Michael cocked his head in admiration of her tattooed arms. Brief words passed between them before Michael closed the door and returned to his desk, tracing paper in hand and a cold pizza at his side.

One last time he had to see her, stare into those wondrous eyes, her wondrous soul. He gently touched the corner of the article and felt a jolt of heat pass through him.

In his dreams she set him on fire and Michael only hoped his dreams were an accurate validation of Dr. Sara Tancredi.


End file.
